


Off With His Hat

by ephona



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Gen, Retrace 83
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephona/pseuds/ephona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>((Post Retrace 83 SPOILERS IMINENT!  <br/>Basically a short drabble/one-shot about Break being executed))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off With His Hat

There was no telling how long it’d been.  With no window to the outside world nor clock to tell the time, one had to go off their own guess.  But the old man could tell it had been one day since tremors had rocked his cell.  He’d grown used to realizing the passing of time.  The wound reopened by a brutal beating had sealed itself up again but only barely.  He feared that if he moved the wrong way the delicate scab tissue would rip itself apart causing him to bleed even more from his abdomen.  Dried red and blackish blood had dried to a gristly brown on the cold, dank floor.  He could feel the sharp edges of the manacles that held him flat against the wall, elevating his arms above his head, beginning to cut into his wrists.  And, on top of all that, he was starving.  Each grumble and moan of his stomach hurt just as much as everything else.  For the first time in years, he could feel himself slipping away.

 _Curse that rat . . . those hounds . . ._ His chest rasped as the all too familiar taste of blood rose up in his throat and came out his dry lips.  The chains rattled as his body was racked by the wheezing coughs.  It only lasted about ten seconds but it was still painful and taxing on what was left of his body.  He let out one last frustrated grunt as he spat what blood was left in his mouth onto the floor.  “Damn!” I’ve never felt this helpless in my life.  _Oz-sama . . . Gilbert . . . Ojou-sama, what’s happening to you?_

“Still having problems, boy?” The smooth, snide voice chimed like screeching bells.  From the hallway connecting his cell to the rest of the prison came the footsteps of three figures.  He could tell by the telltale click-clack of her heels that Lotti Baskerville was the one that mocked him.  The young pink-haired woman stood in front of his broken cell, unveiling her fair head from the hood.  “Still getting used to being on the bottom?”

He grinned painfully. “My! Harsh words coming from a lady like you.”

“Don’t try and flatter me.” With a ‘tch’, Lotti slipped a large key into the lock keeping the cell door closed.  The large clanging of the door was like the screeching halt of carriage wheels.  Rough callused hands grabbed the manacles holding his wrists up and released them from captivity.  He felt his knees buckle as the two other Bakservilles pushed him over onto the ground, wrenching his weakened arms behind him.

“It’s good you know your place now, Break.” Her voice was sharp and bitter like poison.  “Xerxes Break, former Mad Hatter, under the order of Glen Baskerville, you are summoned to meet the Head of the Baskervilles.”

Break shivered in pain as the two other Baskervilles bound his sore wrists together with a rough rope.  Raspy breaths came out of his lungs, trying to grasp whatever good air he could without coughing out more blood.  They forced him to his feet, kicking him as his legs began to wobble and totter.  He hadn’t stood on his own in days and now they expected him to walk?  He used most of his strength to take one step after another, following wherever the brutes were taking him.  He used the rest of it to keep his tears inside.  The last time he’d been in this much pain was years ago when his eye had been taken from him.  Now the pain was distributed all over his entire body.  His knees ached.  His wrists were flaming with the sensation and he felt short of breath. 

They forced him down the halls of the prison block and then up a flight of stairs, caring not that he was stumbling and sometimes even banging his forehead into the corner of walls.  A slight trickle of cold blood was seeping from his reopened wound.  He opened his red lips with a wheeze. “Ms. Lotti . . . surely Glen . . . is not doing this out of mercy.  Why . . . does he want me?”

“I can’t tell you. Glen will have to tell you himself.”

“Sure you can tell me.  We’re friends . . . aren’t we?”

Break could almost hear her give him a burning glare.  “We we’re never friends, Xerxes.  Get over your old creepy self.  Now shut up or I will make this even more of a hell for you, got it?”

There was no arguing with the woman, especially in the state he was in.  He went back to focusing on keeping his feet in a steady rhythm.  Suddenly, a cool whoosh of air blew over his hair.  The smell of statice flowers and black roses filled the air.  He could feel by the smooth, slick surface that he was now on a marble floor and a significant amount of light had poured into his limited field of vision.  The scenery flashed in his mind.  He’d been here many times before: it was the place where Jack had first shown himself to Pandora.  As he configured his surroundings as almost a map inside his head, the two Baskervilles forced him to his knees on the marble tile right in front of the stairs that led up to the second level.  He let out another fit of coughs, swallowing the bloody clots that came up.  _What –_

“Kevin Regnard. Or, should I say, Xerxes Break?”

He stared up at the booming voice that had just spoken his name.  He couldn’t make out who it was any longer; he could only see a human-like shape.  “Don’t use that name.”

“I can use whatever name I want, Kevin.  You’re my captive and without the power of your Chain, you can’t oppose me.”

He sneered just at the mention of him being powerless.  “Glen Baskerville, what do you want with me?”

“You know of Oz Vessalius’ escape, do you not?”

“No.  Being cooped up in that cell means I really don’t get to know anything.” He painted on a smile, trying to use his signature teasing tone and demeanor to fight off whatever anger or fear was showing.  “So Oz did escape . . .”

“Kevin Regnard,” The way he just said his real name made his bones grind together and his teeth clench.  “Former Mad Hatter, due to the terms of a deal with Oz Vessalius and the rebel members of Pandora, you are sentenced to death.”

 _Death . . ._ “A deal you say?  Mind filling me in?”

“Basically if Oz didn’t show up soon we’d start killing the hostages one by one, day by day.” Lotti mused.  “Starting with you.”

So this was the wrath of the great and powerful Glen Baskerville.  Even without a clear face, the seething anger, pain and rejection boiling inside his reincarnated spirit was strong and suffocating.  He was willing to kill for his own goals.  He had killed countless people in the Tragedy so that Jack wouldn’t prevail, as the stupid Duke had told him, so it didn’t come as a huge surprise. 

He just wondered why he was going to kill innocent people.

He let out a low laugh.  “How so like you, Glen.  Bathing in blood to stop the world from breaking.”

“Don’t talk to me like that or I’ll cut your tongue out before you die.” Glen walked down the marble stairs, his shoes clacking on the hard stone.  He stopped at the end of the staircase, facing him.  Break was able to see him a bit clearer now.  He had inhabited the body of a young boy; Leo Baskerville, Elliot’s former servant.  A long red cape billowed around him and his posture was steadfast and rigid.  He held a sleek black sword in his hand, the blade pointed outwards and to the right.  The silhouetted pattern of the craftsmanship of the hilt was telltale that it was Elliot’s sword.  How embarrassing.  Was he to be killed with the very sword that could never win against him in a simple duel?  The tip of the blade moved forward, falling gently on his jugular just enough so that the sharp edge pricked him.  He lurched forward a bit, coughing again.

“Do you understand now?  I’m giving you the debt of mercy.” Leo’s words and voice were not his own.  “You’re already frail and dying.  If you stayed in that cell any longer you’d either suffer a horrible death or the world I am trying to save from destruction would have sucked you in.”

“I . . . don’t need mercy.”

Glen paused for a moment.  The tip of the blade moved down, cutting open the collar of his shirt all the way over his chest.  Slight gasps were heard as the torn fabric revealed his complete seal.  A mark of sinners.  He turned his head away, feeling the weight of weakness cause his neck to slack.

“You’ve had your mercy.  Lacie’s beloved daughter gave you all the mercy you deserved.  Though the affairs of the Abyss aren’t my concern right now.  Consider it my mercy to give you a swift death so you don’t die in pain.”  The blade came up right under his jawbone.  Break’s skin began to clam up and sweat formed on his brow and around his bound wrists.  He already felt cold and sickly.  Even now, after he had killed countless innocent people and contractors terrorizing nearby towns, he was afraid of death.  He let in a sharp breath as the cold blade rested on his skin and Glen’s voice spoke again.

“Any last words, Kevin Regnard?”

Last words.  How much of his life did he spend contemplating the last words he would ever say?  Now he was having this choice of a few last words forced upon him suddenly.  What would he like to be remembered by?  Was there anything he could be remembered by?  He was a murderer and there was no changing that.  That is why he was blind, sickly and dying.  Redemption for his past sins.  He had tried to change his past and, in the process, had ruined his life past, present and future.  There were no words good enough to redeem him.  It wasn’t like Elliot who’s last words, according to what Oz had heard, was a heroic rejection of his own power that caused many to be saved but him to die.  No words he said could ever be remembered like that.  But there was one thing.  It wasn’t just a few words nor a last regret.  It was what he wanted more than ever at this moment.

“Spare Sharon Rainsworth.”

Glen seemed to recoil in surprise.  “Pardon?”

“Lotti said you were going to kill us one by one, day by day.  My last words are a request.”  He let out another raspy breath.  “Spare Sharon Rainsworth.  Postpone her execution to two days.”

“Y-you stupid clown!  Are you out of your mind!? No way we’ll –“

“Quiet, Charlotte.” Leo’s possessed body bent down close enough for Break to see his shaded face and hollow violet eyes.  “It is up to Oz whether or not that happens.  Not you.”

“You . . . had a sister.  You know what it’s like . . . to have family, do you not?” He spoke in a whisper.  “She’s . . . the only sister I have.  And unlike me, she’s done nothing wrong.  Please . . . that is all I ask of anyone . . .”

“I did not ask for your last request.  I asked for –“

“Would you be so stupid as to reject the very person Lacie’s daughter trusted and saved?” His sudden burst of yelling caught Glen off guard.  “She spared me and saved me because I promised her I’d help her out of that hell she was in!  How happy do you think she’d be if you denied me such a simple wish!?” His plea ended with a fit of coughs.  As he tried to catch his breath, he felt the blade come up under his chin and lift it up along with the rhythm of Glen getting to his feet. 

“Kevin, I understand.  I’ll comply.  The execution date of both Sharon and Sheryl Rainsworth shall be postponed one day more than originally intended.”  The blade was at his jawline again.  Break couldn’t tell but he was sure Glen was smiling.  Thought at what, he never knew. 

“Thank you.”  He shut his eyes and took in one last breath, waiting for the snick-snack of the blade to take his head.

It only took one movement.  One motion.  One swing.  As the blade tore through his flesh, he felt nothing.   All he heard was the sound of a music box playing a silent lament and three softly spoken words:

“Kevin, you’re back!”


End file.
